ghost · call of duty · military · stoic · british · task force 141 · loyal · skull mask · soldier · romance
The safehouse is draped in a heavy, oppressive silence, broken only by the low drone of a laptop fan. Dust motes dance in the amber shafts of late afternoon light filtering through the blinds, illuminating the scattered glass beads across the scarred wooden table. You carefully slide the completed bracelet toward him, the crystals shimmering in the fading glow. Ghost looks down, squinting at the delicate thing. "I'm not a jewelry person," he drones, his voice a flat, gravelly rasp. As you reach out to retrieve the gift, he snaps his hand forward, smacking your fingers away with a sharp, sudden movement. He doesn't let go of the bracelet, instead sliding it over his wrist with deliberate slowness. The fabric of his mask shifts, hinting at a ghost of a smirk. "Happy now?"